Ruby in the Shadows
by Nozomi
Summary: Complete. [Hiead/Zero - (not your normal MK) vampire fic.] Just when he thought everything was going great... (C&C always appreciated! ^.^)
1. Part One

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Ruby in the Shadows

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Part One

KINGDOM OF WESSEX AND ALL ENGLAND  
_Anno Domini_ 979

If I'd have known beforehand what a mess I'd cause by being there, maybe I wouldn't have stopped. Then again, me being me and all, maybe I still would've. I ain't one to be bothered by the little things in life, not when I'm one of the only ones around here who can actually see the big picture.

There ain't a lot to say about how it all started, I'm afraid. Basically, I was hungry; not in the way you're probably thinking, though. See you, I'm not your average person, not by far. So it wasn't exactly human food I was lookin' for that night. It was more along the lines of humans themselves.

Now, before you go off all crazy on me, I'm not some twisted human with cannibalistic tendencies, or anythin'. Anything _that _outright would have got me hanged in three days, 'specially seein' how's I'm not exactly the best liar around. No, my diet consisted mainly of a rather thick liquid, and the type of which I was needing could only be found in humans.

I had managed to do without it for quite a bit; it wouldn't do to go on a killing spree every couple a days or so, so I'd worked on it so's I could go for months, even years without. And I had done just that, too, so that by the time I found myself in this particular village, I was just about at the end of my rope. I knew I had to find someone, and quick, otherwise I'd be weak as a kitten, and I always needed strength to get a quick meal, see you.

But I'd had my pick between this town and the next, and had picked this one just because it was nearer. I hadn't expected to find, however, that trying to get a quick meal without getting caught before I could make my exit, stage left, would be the least of my troubles in that town.

Me, I'm Rei ap Enna, Zero for short. During the daylight hours, I do a little buying and selling, though you wouldn't think to look at me. It's the one thing I do for the fun of it, without a higher purpose in mind. Selling saints, that is. Their parts, too, since whole bodies are rare these days- St. Peter's hand, say, or St. John's foot.

During the night, I basically just travel from place to place. See you, I'm what these English folks'd call an elf, just 'cause that's what they call all the things, nasty or not, that roam the night, but you'd probably know my kind best as vampyres. That's why the 'selling saints' job was so great; nobody'd ever expect someone who could openly touch something supposedly 'holy' of being the least bit 'evil.' So it was a living, of sorts.

The tavern I picked to set up in was the Green Shoe; named after some old legend or another immortalized in song around here. The rather dimly lit place was relatively crowded when I arrived, so no one worth mentioning noticed me slip through the door. The air was thick with coarse smoke and the bawling sound of laughter, but I'd seen it all before and was immune to it, and didn't even flinch an eye when some rather large, overly drunk guy stumbled past me, singing the chorus of some song horribly off-key.

One person it particular caught my eye as I slid gracefully into a seat at one of the open tables, and I turned ever-so-slightly, just so much that I could keep my gaze inconspicuously on him. The human was relatively short- about my height, actually- and he had the strangest shade of silver-white hair, along with piercing ruby eyes that just added to the fact that he seemed to be glowering at everyone around him. But his looks weren't the only things that caught my attention, see you. He also had that certain look about him and in his aura that practically screamed his blood would be sweeter than honey, and I'd never doubted my instincts before. This little venture was turning out easier than planned, it seemed.

Now, how to get him alone? I didn't need very long, just a minute or two, and that would be it; the boy wouldn't even be sore in the morning, and I'd have drunk my fill. What I hadn't counted on was the fact that this human was more stubborn than the rest of 'em combined.

Better to play the fool, I decided after a moment or two of watching him and his little social circle interact with each other. It would be easier that way, and no human ever suspects an idiot like me. It must be ingrained in their subconscious somewhere that ignorant people never pose considerable threats to their oh-so-precious persons.

So, per the usual routine, I paste a sloppy grin on my face and stand, making a meandering way towards his table. By the time I'm about fifteen feet away, I can hear what they were talking about, even over the loud ruckus of the tavern; ah, the joys of being non-human. Just my luck, too; they were planning to go off on some sort of venture or other- I catch the words 'bloodlust' and 'damned creatures'.

Gee, I really hope they weren't expecting me or anything; that would ruin the whole thing. But no, they aren't even looking my way with those angry expressions on their faces. Damn. I was hoping I might have had a little fun, too; no matter that it probably would have totally and utterly destroyed any chances I might have had at getting a quick bite- pun intended.

As luck would have it, there's an empty seat next to Mr. Wonderful- no, make that two; one on either side. Bad aura, perhaps? No matter; I slip in next to him, giving him my best 'idiot drunk out of his mind' grin and scooting just that tiny bit into his personal space. The look he sent me could have killed something, it was that intense. Didn't like that; no, he didn't like at all. His wine-colored gaze could have daunted any lesser creature, but I was a bit different than the idiots he was used to dealing with.

"Hey there, beautiful," I purr, giving him my best impression of a Sexy Look. I wonder if he's ever been hit on before; when I didn't immediately leave after his Death Glare, he began giving off just the tiniest scent of nervousness. "How's about I buy you a drink and we two get better acquainted, hm?" I made sure to slur my words just a bit, so's to not make him suspicious; who knew how touchy he was about details?

I get another Death Glare, this time courtesy of one of his friends; some guy with messy green hair and the same color eyes. "We were _talking_ here, buddy!" he exclaims, and I wave an easy hand at him, slipping an arm into the crook of the silver-haired youth's own as I scoot just a bit closer.

"Go on and talk, I won't bother you." I send my newest target a promising smirk; he doesn't even twitch, just continues to glare. Erg... Not my type, definitely _not_ my type. Too quiet. As a rule, I don't like quiet people; they annoy me. But he'll do for just a quick meal. I scoot a bit closer.

He's practically growling at me now; good, he has at least some emotions, then. Strange how I can't seem to smell them, though; he must have a pretty tight reign on his feelings. It'll make for a less interesting time, however; high emotion always make the blood that much sweeter.

"Who are _you_?" Green-Hair demands, and I smirk and stand, releasing my hold on the boy for a moment, and present them all a sweeping bow- almost, but not quite, mocking; wouldn't want to get them all riled up just yet, would I? I grin at them as I straighten.

"Rei ap Enna, at your service; professional relicmonger and part-time bounty hunter." That last part wasn't true, but, with my skills, I could easily become one for a while if joining this little group came out to require it. "I understand you guys are going on an adventure of a sorts, and came to offer my various services." I get a few curious glances for that; I _do_, after all, look a bit young for my kind of work. Idiocy and youth always seem to work best in my favor, though.

"You're a relic thief?" Green-Hair snorts, "I should have known. You're all idiots just looking for a quick scam, the lot of ya."

"Ah!" I exclaim, sliding back in next to Stoic over here. I have them, I can tell already. "But _I_- I am much more than just an idiot. _I_… am an idiot with some measure of skills, however minimal." I raise a suggestive eyebrow at this, and catch sound of a small laugh from one of the others at the table- tall, blonde, and blue-eyed, sitting next to Green-Hair. His longish hair frames and yet hides his face; quite intriguing, really, but I have other humans to seduce.

Speaking of which… I grin suggestively and run teasing fingers down my impending victim's bare upper arm; not surprisingly, he shivers a bit and jerks back. The touch of one of my kind can freeze, or it can _burn_- in an entirely different, much more delightful way. It all depends on what mood I'm in. And tonight I'm playful; it's been awhile since I've been this close in contact with anyone.

See you, I'm not one for casual sex to accompany my meals, but this boy needs to get laid or something similar, if only to remove the stick from where it seems to permanently reside up his ass. And I'm just the one to do it.

Seems he doesn't agree with me, however; I grimace a bit as one bony elbow jabs into my side, after an unsuccessful attempt at running my hand across the back of his neck. Stubborn thing, isn't he? And that elbow _hurt_; it could be a lethal weapon unto itself. I don't give up though; one elbow won't keep me from something when I want it.

So intent am I on planning my next move, I don't notice he has pushed me, rather forcefully I might add, until I actually find myself sprawled somewhat ungracefully on the floor. He's glaring at me with that intense ruby gaze of his as he stands, towering over my form and practically _glowing_ with anger- I kid you not. But perhaps it was that way because I can see these types of thing; I doubt the others even sensed it.

"Don't touch me," he hisses, and that is all. That is all, indeed. He stalks off somewhere, and I pull myself to my feet, trying to salvage what's left of my pride, and slipping back into my seat. The others are watching me now, and I don't blame them; from the angle we were at, they couldn't have realized exactly _what_ I was doing, but they _had_ caught on to the fact that I was invading Mr. Personality's space.

After a long moment of stunned silence stretching between us I grin and shift in my seat. "So, 's he always that friendly to newcomers? I thought I was going to get blown away by the sheer acceptance around here."

I think my general stupidity has brought me up a stage in this particular group's eyes, because Green-Hair answers quickly enough, "Hiead's cold to everyone; I'm surprised he even spared a glance at you. Usually, he just ignores people. Thinks they're a waste of his time."

Ah, so his name is Hiead. Something I have to remember, for later reference; sounds foreign. "Hiead got a last name somewhere in there?"

"Gnr. Hiead Gnr." Blondie answers. "And I'm Ernest ap Cuore. Mister Enna, I'm sure we would love to have your help on this particular outing."

I grin. "Call me Zero."

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By the time Hiead returns from- … well, wherever he went, I'm pretty much caught up on the situation and the persons involved. See as listed:

The group consists of four people, not including myself: Ernest, Hiead, the third guy who had been off getting drinks- who I found out was a dirty-blonde guy name Rioroute-, and Green-Hair, who turned out to be named Gareas ap Elidd. These four are going off on some adventure to locate a witch who is causing considerable mischief in the town- armed with the protection of several holy items, of course. According to them, Hiead's the youngest in their group; he was only picked because he's supposed to have some ancestor or another who was successful at fending off demons and the like- 'successful' meaning he wasn't outright killed the first time around. I almost laughed out loud at that; if anything, Hiead's destructive-type aura would _attract_ demons, not scare them away. It had attracted me, after all.

I didn't bother to let them in on that little secret; better to let them think he could fend for himself, so's I could get him alone sooner. By then I was feeling severe hunger pains, and even eyeing Gareas a bit hungrily; hey, you can't blame a guy for looking, 'specially when the main course was away at the moment.

Mm, and here he comes now. Looking as friendly as ever, I might add. He takes the seat as far away as he can get from me, next to Rioroute; I just scoot closer and grin slyly up at that shuttered face, noticing that he's trying once again to ignore me. Oh, I see. Up for a game, are we?

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Look at me…

"So, Hiead… how's business coming along, hm?"

He glares at me then. "Idiot."

"You know it," I purr, brushing fingertips across the closest patch of bare skin, which just happens to be the side of his neck. The look he gives me then is quite odd- a mixture of barely repressed fury and grudging acknowledgement and sudden realization. I must be imagining that last part; what could he possibly have to realize about _me_?

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See me… notice me…

Hiead audibly growls this time around, surging to his feet in an instant; surprisingly, his hand circles my wrist in an iron grip, dragging me from the table and towards a darkened area of the tavern, near the back. So there'll be no witnesses when he kills me, perhaps? Not likely; I doubt the poor ignorant human could even lay a finger on me if I didn't want him to. This little scene is quite enjoyable, however.

He slams me forcefully up against the wall as soon as we're out of sight of everyone who might possibly be interested in us, and I grimace just a bit; having your skull rammed against hard stone isn't exactly enjoyable, even when you're immortal. I can smell his anxiety now; control losing its hold, Hiead dear? His eyes are glittering, molten rubies in the shadows as he brings his face closer to my own, sneering at me.

"I know who you are, Enna," he hisses vehemently, eyes full of cold fury- and something else, something I've never seen reflected in the eyes of any of my victims before. My heart speeds up just a bit at his words; could he possible actually know? "Stop trying to get into my head." He backs that statement up with another rough shake of my form, then stares at me for a moment, obviously waiting for some sort of reply or acknowledgement. I don't disappoint. 

In a sudden unexpected move I grin at him, catching him off guard for a moment as I land a swift punch to his gut, causing him to let go his hold on me rather quickly. Retaliation is rather efficient with me; I don't do well as submissive in anything. He reels back a bit, still glaring; I'm beginning to think that's his answer to anything and everything intruding on his person.

"Call me Zero. And I'm not trying to get into your head, Hiead." I reply simply, turning back towards the table with the others and beginning to walk away. "You're letting me." I now believe I shouldn't have said that last part, but what happened, happened.

I don't even see the attack coming, but that's all right; I react in a fraction of an instant, even as he tackles me with a loud curse on his breath. I whirl as he lands a lucky punch on my right shoulder, sweeping his legs out from under him and tripping him up so much that he reaches out for a hold and ends up grabbing me; we both fall to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Neither of us cares; we're too busy trying to maul each other.

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Watch me…

That's it. Get angry, Hiead. Be mad at me. Let those emotions come crashing down upon you; it'll make our encounter that much sweeter. I'm grinning as I twist out of his grip and pin him to the floor in one swift movement, but the move doesn't even faze Hiead; he growls yet again, flipping me over so he's now the one pinning me, though I'm still the one grinning.

Ernest and Gareas have noticed the fight at last; out of the corner of my eye I see the both of them rushing over to us. They're afraid we'll kill each other, I can tell from the twin expressions on their faces; this revelation makes the smirk on my face widen, and I lift my head up, brushing lips against Hiead's own in a seemingly tentative caress, before I pull back just as suddenly. He jerks at that, eyes widening the slightest bit at my audacity; he's so taken aback, he actually allows Gareas to bodily remove him from me and lead him a bit away from me. 

Surprised, human? You shouldn't be. I've just gotten started.

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The next day, the five of us meet in a nearby graveyard about an hour before sunset. That's another misconception the English have- that all creatures that like the night can't survive the daytime. Sure, bright light really isn't my thing, but I don't turn to dust the instant I step into the sun. My eyes may not appreciate it when I spend time in direct sunlight, but I can stand it; in fact, the more time I stay in sunlight, I seem to build up a stronger immunity to it so's I can stay in it longer the next time.

Hiead is here, of course. I didn't fool myself into thinking that I had scared him so badly that he would take great pains to avoid me altogether; I knew better. He isn't the type to do anything until he's absolutely sure what the outcome of his actions will be.

He *does*, however, ignore me. Very much so, in fact. It's almost like I am invisible or something, but that isn't the fact, simply because he can't have managed to stay so far away from me at all times if he's not been able to see me.

My intellect astounds me sometimes. Really, it does.

I grin at that and grip my choice of the holy relics I had brought for everyone, at Ernest's request; it is the finger bone of St. Peter. Not that I really need it's supposedly 'divine' protection from demons and night spirits; I am one of them, after all, and a member of Queen Mab's court despite the fact that I rarely participate in those political games anymore.

So here we are, five idiots in a graveyard at twilight, looking for-… looking for what, exactly? I'm not sure; how would playing 'scavenger hunt' in a place with lots of dead people help in finding a witch? I'm not sure about _that_, either, so I ask Ernest; I consider approaching Gareas about it, but he was a bit too hostile for my tastes, and Rioroute is just _way_ too hyper for my tastes- he could give a guy a major headache with all those emotions he is flinging around so carelessly.

"Well, from what we can tell, the witch was last spotted in this area, around the time her last spell was cast. Basically, she is stealing away young people between the ages of thirteen and twenty-four, male and female alike, from this spot during the night of May Eve, a few each year. These people are never seen again. The reason we are looking into it on this night in particular is because the locals claim to spot her and her accompanying strange lights on this night as well, the night of November Eve, though she apparently does not take anyone then." Ernest explains calmly- almost cheerfully, considering the circumstances.

The situation sounds vaguely familiar, for some odd reason. I nod, muttering a hearty, "All right, then! We'll stop 'er!" just to give more sound evidence to my idiot-act, and stand, wandering a bit away from the rest. All except for Hiead, that is; the silver-haired human is deliberately and patiently making an inconspicuous path towards the outer reaches of the graveyard, near the back. Hm. Looks like the little human is up to something; or _on_ to something, if he's as devoted to the task at hand as the rest of his little social circle seems to be.

The moon is beginning to rise as I follow Hiead, trying to make sure he doesn't spot me as I tail him; stupid human actually'd put _himself_ in a position for me to be alone with him, without any goading from me at all. That means he'd probably lied when he'd told me he knew who I was last night, before we'd gotten into that fight; he wouldn't have done anything_ near _as stupid as that if he had even _half_ an idea of what I truly was.

My hunger is rising again; thankfully, I'd been able to make it through last night without actually jumping Hiead or anything so conspicuous, and by daylight my urges were much more subdued. I know that I can't last much longer, though; last night had been a fluke, I shouldn't have been able to last through the night the way I did. So I'm practically drooling as I watch Hiead turn down another path, cut momentarily off from my sight by a low-hanging tree. His aura is very, very intense tonight; very shadowed, and it's good potential for high emotions. I love it.

I finally spot him again, crouching behind a gathering of thick bushes, which is quite unusual this time of the year. He is watching something on the other side of 'em quite intently, those ruby eyes of his trained on some sight or another. He also hasn't noticed me yet, which I find lucky on my part. Must be a particularly interesting scene on the other side of those bushes.

I decide to take a look myself, seein' as I'm naturally curious and all, so I go up the path a ways until I can find a spot to look from. Lo and behold, there actually _is_ something worthwhile looking into there- five moon-white, flowing forms, moving in concentric circles, accompanied by a multitude of ghost-white wraiths. The movements of the figures seem to signify something, something ritualistic in nature.

The physical forms are a group of pale-white Daoine Sidhe, by the looks of it, moving in sync with the spirits of the dead present here as well. I should have known, or at least guessed- November Eve is the night of Samhain for them; the night of the year when they'd leave their little forest hidey-holes and come to dance with the ghosts inhabiting the area. It's some sort of ritual with them; a type of which I haven't the means to understand, either the first time I'd been introduced to their kind, nearly five hundred years ago, nor now, with all the knowledge I'd gained since then. The dancing was beautiful, though; in it's own unique way.

And, from what I could recall of the rest of their peculiar rituals, they're probably also the cause of all those disappearances Ernest mentioned earlier; on the night of May Eve each year, it's rumored that the Sidhe come up from their homesteads to take brides of the human world- that particular night was called Beltane in their tongue. Mystery solved, though I wasn't about to go back and inform the others of that; I had other things to worry about.

From my vantage point, I can actually spot the glitter of Hiead's eyes from where he perches; he is somehow reminiscent of a cat at this moment, though I'm quite sure how or why. And, with him all occupied like he was, why not invite myself over to give him a little 'company', of a sorts? So, grinning like a cat myself, I crept, slowly and carefully, towards his hiding place. He didn't even notice me until I was practically on top of him.

And then, still not noticing my presence but seeming somehow determined in his own right, he made the most foolish mistake he could ever have done at this particular time and place. He stood up. Stood up high enough that anyone could have spotted him now. In front of a bunch of Sidhe.

Sidhe aren't partial to humans, not in the slightest. I react without thinking, practically launching myself at him and knocking him forcefully to the ground, me on top of him for the second time in as many days. He was becoming just a bit habit-forming. I hear him growl viciously and try to struggle upward, but I hold him down, using the considerable strength that I hadn't displayed yesterday to keep him there. Hiead glares at me with that gaze like mulled wine, and I proceed to send him a mocking grin- only to have it fade instantly as he opened his mouth to most likely yell for help. That won't do; the Sidhe are still very nearby, and I don't think they'd give punishment of a trespassing mortal a second thought, even if I argued to them about Hiead being my next meal.

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See me…

There wasn't so much as a flicker of speed as a blink of unconsidered movement; one moment, I am leaning over him, eyes widening at this new ploy of his, the next, my lips are mashed against his own- it isn't so much as a kiss as a silencing technique, and it works. Boy, does it work; his breath literally stills in his throat and, as I begin moving my mouth again his in a more purposeful manner- seeing as he isn't resisting all that much-, I swear he begins to purr, though his body is still unmoving beneath mine; I am using all of my considerable talent, and even some of my inherent magic, to get him to react to me. With that pulsing vein of his so tantalizingly close to my mouth, I am suddenly too hungry to care where we are, or how foolishly dangerous taking my share of his blood here would be; vampyres aren't immune to the Sidhe laws, either, though I'd get in trouble only because they'd probably think I brought Hiead here by my own power.

Unfortunately, he doesn't quite fall under my spell the way I'd expected him to; he jerks up all of a sudden and pushes me roughly off of him, moving into a defensive crouch even as his breathing comes in pants, and his eyes flash with the visible urge to hurt me. Badly. He is more stubborn than any human I'd ever met, and trust me when I say I've encountered quite a few in my generous lifetime.

"What are you doing?" he hisses, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand; there is disgust evident in his voice, although whether directed at himself or at me I can't readily decipher. He swallows roughly, and my gaze is drawn back to his suddenly rapidly-pulsing jugular vein. I smirk at that little discovery. More put out than you want to admit, Hiead dear?

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Watch me…

"That is a group of Daoine Sidhe over there that you were just staring at. If you'd have given yourself away, you'd have been ripped to pieces soon enough." I explain as coolly as I can, even with my eyes riveted on his neck. He looks a little disturbed at finding me staring, but otherwise doesn't mention it just yet.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

He gives me that odd look again, the same as before- that very same mildly disturbing mixture of repressed fury and grudging acknowledgement and sudden realization. "This isn't part of what you do. Stop it." It isn't a question, or a request. Maybe he does have some limited knowledge after all; Hiead is correct, in a way.

"It's part of me; it's in my nature. Besides, you need it." It's only a half-jest on my part.

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Notice me…

"I do _not_ need _anything_ from _you_, Enna." He's angry now; good. It makes this game all the more interesting, and my reward all the more sweet.

We may be whispering, but the ferocity between us is tangible; the trait is in my nature and, by the looks of it, in his as well. He thinks we're total opposites; I _know_ we're not. We're not exactly the same either, though; if we were, he'd drive me crazy, and I him. 

Hiead surprises me with his next words, when he finally figures out that I've ceded the next move of our little game to him.

"You and I-… we're the same, you and I. But we're _nothing_ alike." He glares at me after that one cryptic remark, standing but making sure it's not high enough to be caught by the Sidhe, and heading rather contentedly back down the way he and I had come. "I'm warning you for the last time, Zero Enna: Don't mess with me."

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Look at me…

Well. I grin, staring after his retreating form from where I'm still awkwardly perched on the rather hard ground. _That_ was an interesting encounter, indeed.

And it ain't over yet.

-----

This is part one of two, and was inspired by Candidate for Goddess vampire fics I read earlier. From the ones I read, Hiead was always the vampire, so I decided to switch it just a bit. This was originally going to be a one-shot, but I have split it into two parts to add suspense… or something like that. ^.^ Please tell me what you think, as this is only my second Megami Kouhosei fic, and my first rather longish POV fic. C&C is much appreciated!

Nozomi


	2. Part Two, End Game

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Ruby in the Shadows

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Part Two - End Game

KINGDOM OF WESSEX AND ALL ENGLAND  
_Anno Domini_ 979

So now ya know the first of it; part and parcel, I s'ppose. And that, as you might say, is the fated beginning.

Then came the end; there was no 'middle' as humans think of one, and yet... perhaps, indeed, it was _all_ middle, for this story has neither a swift nor a clean breaking of ties. Ya do realize the irony of that statement, don't ya? Where everything with me is done and ended, yet never completely finished.

I find him, wonder of wonders, on the other side of the cemetery, glaring heatedly at a century-old gravestone- as if it's owner had ever done any injustice upon _him_. The dumb gravestone doesn't deserve such blatant animosity, at least in my book- and let me tell ya, I've got quite a many-chaptered tome- so I decide to rescue it from it's vicious tormentor. I do this, of course, by coming up behind him and slapping him heartily on the back, halfway breaking the dark moodiness that had been swirling enticingly around him like a loose, second skin.

"So what's new?" I ask lightly, as that wine-colored glare is immediately fastened on me, most likely attempting to burn a hole straight through my empty, feathery little head. Hm. Try all you like, Hiead dear; it ain't gonna happen in this lifetime. I sit _very_ close and throw a casual arm around his shoulders in silent retaliation.

Silence from the statue.

Well, _that's_ no good. My stomach rumbles lightly in obvious agreement; no scruples there. I pause to throw away the finger bone of St. Peter I had been toying with; it probably wasn't helping the mood much.

Hiead shrugs off my offending arm and stands, not even deigning to look at me. Oh, that hurts. That _really_ hurts; and after all I've done to- er, I mean, _for_ him, too! This guy's got no sense of decency, I tell ya.

"Leave me alone, Enna."

And God said, 'Let the stone have speech,' and the silence parted. I raise an eyebrow at his words; the first he's spoken in what must have been five minutes. Grinning, I jump lithely to my feet, and before he can react or voice protest I have my arms wrapped securely around him from behind, maybe just a _bit_ tighter than absolutely necessary. He stiffens, of course. What antisocial reclusive _wouldn't_, in this situation? And then I start doing... interesting things with my hands...

He, unfortunately, doesn't take the bait.

Hiead lifts one leg and then brings it down, landing a vicious blow on my poor foot; I reel a bit and let go of him (much to his pleasure, I might add), as red flashes across my vision for a split second. Damn, where'd the boy get_ that _kind of strength? That actually _hurt_, damnit!

I feel an iron grip on my throat as Hiead pushes me up against a nearby cypress tree, and grimace as the rough bark digs sharply into my back.

"I warned you not to mess with me, Zero Enna. I wasn't joking."

Gee, I think I figured _that_ out way back when ya first slammed me into the wall at that tavern. Contrary to what you might believe, Hiead, I ain't as stupid as ya think. I don't comment, though, just grin and let my eyes catch his in a penetrating gaze. I think it unnerves him, this steady face in the rush of what I've affectionately come to term 'Impending and Immediate Doom by Hiead Gner's Hands'.

His fingers twitch tighter, and I can't help a small grimace of pain at the pressure on my windpipe- right before I lash out, using my legs to sweep Hiead's out from under him in a short, derisive movement. We both go crashing to the ground, Hiead's grip on my throat falling free as his back jars against the hard-packed ground, a pained expression crossing his face for just a brief instant before it is violently and thoroughly quashed. He moves to roll from his position under me, but I move to stop him, caging him with my arms and legs. He isn't getting away from me without a fight.

Gee, déjà vu much?

He glares at me again, an expression the color of mulled wine; I'm beginning to think it's some sort of defensive gesture for when he's faced with something unpleasant, as I must be to him. He's breathing a bit heavily, I note, eyes flicking up and down his prostrate, extremely tempting form. Oh, how he'd mangle me if he'd heard how easily I used the words to describe him. He's really quite irresistible; I'm still a bit surprised that this hasn't happened to him before this, with another of my kind. 

And then I lean down and kiss him. Something that feels vaguely like static electricity passes between our lips in the instant before they touch, but I pay it no attention; it isn't strong enough to bother me for more than a split-second. Our mouths meet in an instant of fire; I am using all of my inherent magic to make him respond, but still he barely moves. He really _must_ be made of stone or something.

No matter, as long as I get what I want.

He squirms under me, then, and I clamp a hand over one of his wrists, my grip a smidge tighter than really necessary. I really can't control myself anymore; it's been way too long, and I can feel the vein in his throat pulsing in a wild rhythm as he glares at me...

And then... nothing. He just... gives up; stops fighting. I pause and glance up at his eyes from where I had been concentrating on his (much more interesting) mouth, and I can feel his slight, humorless smirk against my lips. Hm. This isn't good; not good at all. Where's all the fight, the dark fire he had before? Even his aura's down.

His ruby eyes stare blankly back at me, with one silver-gray eyebrow raised in feigned puzzlement. A silent challenge; for what, I'm not really sure.

In any case, it should make this much easier. I shrug fluidly and lean back down, bypassing his mouth altogether (he twitches at that unexpected move) and leaning forward to lightly scrape the tips of my elongated canines against the skin over his jugular- an action I _know_, from past experience, can feel very, very erotic.

He doesn't even gasp. I hesitate again and, after a moment of thought, sit back up with a deep sigh, giving him a glare to rival any of his own previous ones. I am very irked right now.

Damn. Damn, damn, _damn_. It seems the stupid, intelligent human is making this a bit _too_ easy. It's like trying to get a meal from a severely frightened animal- something I wouldn't advise trying very often, seeing as only human blood has the right mixture of oxygen to keep vampyre blood flowing; our blood suffers from lack of oxygen, and it's the reason why we need other... hm, _donors_ in the first place. Otherwise we'd die from asphyxiation. And trust me, that is _not_ a pretty way to kick the bucket.

But anyway, I think I've gone off on a tangent; I tend to do that. As I was lamenting about, Hiead just suddenly went... cold. In more ways than one. And I don't like it.

See you, there are two emotions that really sweeten blood for me or any of my kind: passion, and fear. Now, Hiead doesn't really seem like a 'fear' type; then again, he doesn't exactly have 'passionate' written in black ink across his forehead, either, now does he?

But his just lying there like that is just damn _irritating_; his blood _would_ do the trick, but it would be dull and tasteless if he was just complacent, likes to as he's doing now. And I, for one, like a bit of spice in my life- and my meals. It's the difference between cold rice and a nice, big, juicy steak; there's no comparison. It also the reason why I picked this human in particular.

Not that I'm calling Hiead a steak or anything.

I know, I know; I'm kinda rambling, aren't I? That's me: Mr. Chatterbox. Kizna would really lay on to me about it, too, if she were here.

Lucky for me, she isn't.

And, now that I think about it, my hunger doesn't really care what type of 'food' I get, as long as its edible. So I can probably stand a rather dry (figuratively speaking, of course) meal for once.

So, smirking at him, I lean down again- and his eyes widen just the slightest bit, not enough for anyone but someone like me to notice. _'Curses, foiled again', eh, Hiead?_ Oh, yeah, I think I'll make him enjoy this just to spite him and his over-exaggerated ego problem.

And then he starts struggling again, and I partially lose my balance, and, in effect, my physical control over him. Damn it, not _again_! He's stronger than he looks, this one. I curse imaginatively and clamp my mouth over his, hoping it'll give him pause for thought.

No such luck, Enna. I've done it one too many times in our little encounters, it seems. In his struggles he tries to yank his wrist from my iron grasp, but I don't relent, and he ends up cutting himself as my fingernails bite into his skin trying to silently dissuade him. The sharp scent of blood is very, very enticing in my nostrils, and oh, _why_ did he have to cut himself-

"Oy! Gner! You in here?"

And then there was a disturbance in the force. We both freeze at what can only be Gareas' shout, almost painfully aware of what kind of promising position we're in. Hiead growls low in his throat and shoves me off of him with enough force to uproot a tree, I tell ya; and I, surprised at the move (though I really shouldn't be, knowing what I do of Hiead), go crashing backwards, totally off-balance for once. My eyes are wide in what I can only imagine as a comical manner, and I fall back, breaking my fall in a patch of nice, helpful (really painful) thorn bushes. Ouch.

Hiead's already on his feet and exiting the clearing by the time I clear my vision and look up, heading off the way Gareas' hail came. Oh, no, you're not getting off that easily, dear. And that's a promise.

I'm on my feet in a second, and in another I'm in front of him, bodily blocking his passage. "Be right there!" I call to Green-Hair over my shoulder, then turn around to stare at Hiead, not even bothering to clarify for our mutual friend. Let Gareas draw his own conclusions, valid or invalid as they may be.

Hiead's glaring at me. Again. Then again, when is he _not_ glaring at something? I shrug it off and reach for his _*ahem*_ injured arm, noting the clenched fist as he (surprise!) lets me grab hold of it. It's a very reluctant cede, though, and I know it won't last. Well, that's me for ya; make the most of any situation I'm presented with, no matter how random.

I let my hand cover his for a moment, then begin to pry his fingers open, being at once surprisingly (for Hiead, anyway) gentle in my actions. His expression is almost unnoticeably puzzled as I grimace a bit at seeing the half-moon rings of blood his fingernails have brought to the surface of his palm, and then I lower my head a bit, warm, moist breath caressing his hand like a lovers touch. I sweep my tongue over the tiny droplets and he visibly jumps, but my -still gentle- grip on his wrist is strong and he can't pull away as I swipe at the liquid again. The taste of his blood is salty and sweet, almost unbearably so, but not quite; it's right on the verge of being overbearing, and just the way I like it.

I can hear him swallow convulsively as I pull him closer to me and trail a wet path with my tongue up to the three parallel lines of blood welling just above his wrist, and I smirk, taking care not to let him see the expression. He might take it the wrong way, after all. Ya never know with twisted psychos like him.

My tongue darts out for another taste of his blood, this time on the scratches caused by my earlier actions, and I clean them thoroughly, though I don't think he knows what exactly I'm doing. The taste of him is very, very invigorating, and my bloodlust is rising, even as I pull him even closer in a liquid move and fuse my mouth on his. He responds in kind this time, mouth moving heatedly against and in mine, and I crow in triumph inside. All it took to get to him was a delicate touch, after all!

"Oy! Gner! Enna! What're you two doin' in there? We need to regroup!"

Ddaammnn iitt. I resist the urge to let loose a childish whine, and instead pull back and once again lean my head over Hiead's injured arm, much to his surprise. Gritting my teeth at what I'm about to do, I quickly bite my tongue, just enough for a few drops of blood to well up. I let these crimson orbs of liquid fall against the cuts above his wrist, then move down to let a few more fall against his self-inflicted injuries. I straighten back up when I am finished, giving Hiead a penetrating, promising stare before I turn and lead him towards stupid Gareas and the others, not relenting my grip on his wrist. I know without looking that he has seen his arm, and how the application of my blood has healed the cuts, not leaving even a trace of scars- and I wonder what he is thinking; what is going through his head at this exact moment in time.

Even I cannot guess that.

-----

It seems the others are calling it quits for the night, and for the next year or so; the only evidence they found that anyone had been in this graveyard for awhile was a broken evergreen twig, found- coincidentally enough- in the clearing where the Sidhe had been.

I grin my idiot grin and don't comment. Thankfully, neither does Hiead. Smart boy. Or maybe just too antisocial to care much. Either will do.

And so we say our farewells and good-byes, the usual promises to keep in touch and the like, and part ways at the iron gate of the cemetery, Ernest, Gareas and Rioroute heading one way, me dragging Hiead in another. I notice before I center all my attention on my silver-haired victim-- er, I mean, _friend_-- that Gareas has a casual arm flung across Ernest's shoulders-- a little _too_ casual to be entirely casual, if you know what I mean. Well, good for them; looks like I'm not the only one in for a bit of fun around here.

The moon is full and bright as I lead Hiead down the rutted dirt road, no sound but that of our feet crunching against the sand and the wind weaving a dance through the trees filling our ears. His breathing is heavy in my ears alone; he knows what is coming next.

Then I pull him to the side of the path and into a cleverly concealed clearing. The dark green of the trees around us seems to meld and create the illusion that we are alone in the world, and that is exactly what I want. I release my grip on his arm and step back, staring at him for a moment. He's glaring at me, but it's not a hard glare like before, and there's something vaguely sinister glimmering beneath the surface of those crimson depths, but I don't delve any deeper. I'm too hungry to waste any time on might-be's or vague misgivings. I wait just long enough so that he starts getting impatient with me, and then I pounce.

I push him gently against the nearest tree trunk, raking my nails lightly down his arms when he's there, and he shivers. I smirk. Good. Much more enthusiastic than before; not that 'enthusiastic' is a word that really fits in the same sentence as 'Hiead', but it's close enough for my bloodlust-addled mind at the moment. I lean in closer, heated breath ghosting across his features as I bypass his oh-so-tempting mouth altogether and nipping at a spot on his neck just below his ear, and he jerks in my encasing grasp and grits his teeth, hands reluctantly coming up to rest in the small of my back. I think he's determined not to enjoy this; I'm just as determined to _make_ him.

I grin against his neck and lift my head upwards, trapping his mouth in a sloppy kiss as I rake my fingernails quickly down his clothed back, drawing an almost imperceptible gasp from him, which I swallow in my mouth. As the kiss ends I smile against his mouth, biting gently at his lower lip and drawing blood, before I lower my head to nip at the juncture of shoulder and neck, almost-- but not quite-- hard enough to draw the blood that is flowing underneath to the surface. His fingers clutch at my tunic reflexively, causing a smirk to flash across my face before I continue with the interesting things I am doing to him.

Once I am satisfied with my work I come back the soft shell of his ear, swiping my tongue around the edge of it before plunging inside a few times. He snorts and squirms a bit in my hold, and I almost laugh out loud. Who would have guessed Mr. High-and-Mighty was so ticklish? I file the information away for later musings, then continue down a bit to plant light kisses, barely just a brushing of skin against skin, on the line of his jaw, as if in silent apology-- or maybe just to catch him off guard when I lower my head and break the skin of his throat with my canines. He sucks in a breath at the sharp pinpoint of pain, but soon enough relaxes again as the hurt recedes to pleasure, emanating from the very point form where we are now connected.

Oh, did I forget to mention that? When I take the blood of someone, depending on my mood, I can make it either painful or pleasurable-- the difference between agony flowing through your veins and the feeling of being lightly caressed with fingernails from the inside. And I am definitely in a good mood, so all Hiead is feeling at the moment is a numbing sort of pleasure as I drink my fill.

The taste of his blood is intoxicating in my mouth, a strange blend of flavors I have never encountered before-- but then, I should have known Hiead would have unusual blood. I lap lazily at a few errant droplets of blood as I continue to drink, but my tongue stills for a moment as I feel a sharp pain on my left earlobe, and realize almost immediately that Hiead has bitten my ear hard enough to pierce the skin the tiniest bit. Hmm. A little violent, aren't we? I should've known.

When I have drunk my fill I pull back, biting my tongue and letting a few drops of my own blood fall on the wounds on his neck, then on the ones I have caused on his lower lip. I plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the place where I had bitten him before raising my head and initiating another sparring of tongues between him and me, pulling him insistently to the ground with a promising smirk...

-----

When our tryst is done and over I manage to locate a nearby tavern where Hiead and I spend the night and have a couple of rounds of ale. I buy a few shots and Hiead buys a few shots-- or maybe he doesn't, somehow it's hard to tell through the fog in my brain. Strange; very strange, indeed. I've never had something like this happen to me after a feeding. But my hunger is satiated, and I very much don't care at the moment.

Hiead is like a silent statue next to me, all cold and dark and distant, but it's really hard to concentrate on any one thing right now, so I do nothing. I *do* notice, however, that his aura is a bit... 'smug' is the word I'm looking for, I guess.

But I think nothing of it, because I'm an idiot like that.

The sky is just beginning to lighten into a false dawn when I finally stumble up to our room, drunk on more than ale. Hiead is close behind me, watching me with a trained eye, but my brain is too muddled to form a coherent thought, so I mumble something along the lines of "G'nighsht, H'd" and stumble to the pallet I had earlier claimed as my own in this small room. My mind doesn't even register when my head actually hits the pillow, for I am already asleep on my feet, and Hiead is furthest from my mind.

-----

When I awake with the rays of midmorning sunlight glaring in my eyes, Hiead is gone; I expected as much from him, though. So it is with a rather light heart that I traipse down the stairs of the inn and grab a light meal of ham, eggs and more strong ale for my breakfast, wolfing them down quickly and without any small talk to any of the other bleary-eyed customers spread throughout the room.

The late morning sun is warm on my face as I travel down the main road of the town, making my way out of this place for another two hundred years or so; wouldn't want anyone to notice that I don't age between visits, now would I? I am grinning as I walk the dirt path, kicking up clouds of dust as I do so, and smiling at the world around me. The birds are chirping, the sky is a cloudless blue, and all is right with the world.

Okay, so it sounds a little sappy for a Creature of the Night, huh? So bite me. I happen to _like_ the living world, thank you very much.

I don't really have an idea where exactly I'm going now; I could go back to the others, and Erts, but I feel that it isn't time yet. Perhaps I could tour Italy again? Egypt, perhaps? It all depends on where I end up, I s'posse. I'm not picky.

I reach the beginning of a dark wood at around mid-afternoon, and am surprised when I spot a flash of silver to my right, up in the trees. My head whirls around, but whatever it was is gone, if it was even there in the first place. I shrug internally and proceed, brushing it off. If someone wants to contact me, they'll do it on their own time, or not at all. I'm patient enough for almost anyone.

I'm about halfway through the shadowed wood when I begin to spot flashes of silver again, but only out of the corner of my vision. See you, I'm not stupid; I have a feeling it's Hiead, and my feelings are usually correct. I make no move to call out to him, though; all in his own time.

Finally, as I walk into a short stretch of clearing around the set path, I spot his form. He was perched on the second branch of a rather large tree, back leaning casually against the trunk and arms crossed, and as soon as I set eyes on him again, my hunger started up. The surprise at my body's reaction must have been apparent on my face, for I saw him smirk in obvious delight at my torment. What the...? He wasn't_ that _nice looking or anything, and, come to think of it, it wasn't sex I was thinking of when I looked at him.

Odd; very odd. I've never needed so much blood in such short amount of time, so I _know_ it isn't just me. And the way Hiead's smirking, I can pretty much guess it has something to do with him and his damned weird looks he gave me at various times during last night. 

"Gner!" I yell, very put-out. "What did you...?"

His smirk widens and, if it's possible, becomes even eviler. Oh, I don't like this. I don't like this at all.

"What did I do?" he finishes for me, shifting the slightest bit to face me. My fists clench and my body goes taut, fingernails biting into the palms of my hands. Grr. Damn him for acting so superior all of a sudden!

He shifts and sets himself down on the thick branch, sitting cross-legged, that superior smirk still fixed on his stupid face. "I did nothing, Zero Enna. I simply let you have your way with me. I warned you, didn't I? And you didn't heed my advice."

My bloodlust is begging to overpower me; I can see red around my vision. "_What_...?"

"What am I? What happened, perhaps?" he reached up and brushed a stray bang from in front of his crimson eyes, feigning thought. "Simple enough," he said after a moment. "I am yokai. A youko; or rather, blood brother to a youko, but sharing the same properties. You do realize just exactly what that means, don't you?"

I didn't answer, but I knew. I knew all too well.

Shit. Why, in all the gods above, did I have to drink the blood of the one creature that had intoxicating, life-addicting blood?

*****

And that's a wrap.

No, really. That's it. That's the end. ^.^; It just... came out that way. I could probably morph this whole idea into a major arc, with prequels and sequels and side-stories and everything; and, come to think of it, I just might, if people seem to like this story and the idea. 'Til then, though, this'll have to do. Sorry it took so long for this to come out, but now it's like a Halloween present or something akin to it, ne? ^.^

'Til Next We Meet,  
Nozomi


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